Remembering the Sea
by Pastel Blossom
Summary: America reflects on the past, his relationship with England, all while watching the waves of the ocean. USUK, eventual one-sided USUK, FrUK.


**Remembering the Sea**

**America is watching the ocean, thinking back on the past when England and he were still together. One-sided USUK, FrUK, implied character death.**

**A/N: Okay, brace yourselves. This is pretty heavy, depressing stuff. **

**Disclaimer: Of course I don't own Hetalia. I'm sad now. :(**

* * *

July 23

Water. Water everywhere.

Staring out at the sea in front of me, I reflect on the memories of me and him together.

Vaguely aware of the color surrounding me, I concentrate instead on the thought of England's beautiful eyes. A jewel green, hiding cold secrets in their depths.

At first, I sit there, confused. Why did we separate? He was the sun to my sky, the stars to my heavens. We were…happy.

Then, as I close my eyes, the recollection of everything that happened since comes rushing back to me full force.

* * *

_(Flashback-A year ago)_

_January 13 _

_Having finished country-related work early, I had planned to surprise England with a fruit pie I bought from the bakery. Arriving at the cozy house we share, I decide to sneak in through the back door. Creeping up the steps and fishing out my keys, I unlock the door, half-expecting to hear his voice. Instead, all that greets me is silence. Setting the pie on the counter, I tiptoe through the house, apprehensive and increasingly concerned with every open door I pass. Stopping at the last door, I hold my breath, finding the door slightly ajar. Gently tapping it open, what I find leaves me frozen in utter shock._

_England and France lying there._

_As I approach the bed, what I see breaks me beyond repair, but I feel shattered, defeated to see his expression most of all. England's face has a small, serene smile that he I haven't seen in a long time, not since the first day I confessed to him. A smile, true and genuine, unlike the forced ones I see lately. _

_I lied to myself to the point that I was convinced that I was imagining it. The smiles were genuine, weren't they?_

_Only, a part of me refused to believe it. Inside, somewhere, I realized that England didn't love me back._

_This only confirmed my deepest fears and suspicions. _

_I hold back my tears and tug the doorknob, trying to close the door without alerting the two still in the room, but the door makes a small 'click' when I pull it shut. England utters a soft "America? Is that you?" The sheets rustle and I hear him untangling himself from France._

_I dash out, front door slamming behind me. England calls after me. "America? America! Where are you going?!" His footsteps echoing, frantic._

_I scream at him, "Go away, I don't want you in my life, I don't want to see you!" _

_Throwing the keys to our house at him, I run past the trees, the sidewalk, the streetlamps, to the middle of the road. I hear a distraught England scream at me, "America, watch out!" _

_I turn my head to find a truck approaching, lights glaring. My eyes widen, I trip and scramble to get up, but it's too late. _

_SCREECH. WHAM._

_I catch a last glimpse of a worried face, jewel green eyes shining brightly before everything turns to darkness._

The tears I had suppressed for so long surface, and I can only accept the truth. Another memory surfaces.

* * *

_February 18 _

_I wake up, with no recollection of anything that happened. A doctor comes in and I ask him the date, believing it to be January 14th. He tells me gently that I've been in a coma for more than a month. He asks if I know my own name. I reply confidently, I'm Alfred F. Jones!_

_He smiles slightly and mentions that there is someone who wants to see me._

_Following him, I leave the room to find a green-eyed blond with an anxious expression watching me. He seems familiar, but I can't seem to recall meeting him._

_He launches himself at me, sobbing into my shirt. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! I never meant for that to happen to you." _

_I stare at him, puzzled. "Who are you?"_

_He pulls out of my shirt and gapes at me, baffled. _

"_You…you don't remember me?"_

_I shake my head._

* * *

I continue to delve deep into thought, reminiscing and remembering.

* * *

_February 20 _

_The doctor tells me that I have amnesia caused by some sort of trauma I experienced right before the accident. He let me out of the hospital, but warned me to take care of myself. I find the keys to my apartment somewhere in my pockets and make my way to the address. On my way to my home, I pass by a small cottage. Something about this place stirs my feelings. I see the British gent standing on the lawn talking to a blond French guy. I feel a twinge of pain every time I see them together, but I cannot understand why. The Brit notices me and calls me over, introducing himself as England, the country, with the human name Arthur Kirkland. He calls the French guy Francis Bonnefoy, or France. England says that I am America, the United States of America. I am confused, so I stare for a second and walk on._

* * *

At this point, I can't recall anything, so I pull out a diary from my pocket, opening up to the first page.

* * *

_March 12 _

_England came to visit me today. He asked me quietly how I was doing and whether I remembered anything from the accident. The glare of a truck's lights and two orbs of green visit me in my dreams. Flashbacks from the accident, probably. I can't shake the feeling that the two green orbs have some meaning._

* * *

_April 29_

_I was staring out the window, struggling to recall something, anything, from that fateful day. I remembered that Kiku Honda, or Japan, was my best friend. I knew that Matt Williams, Canada, was my brother. I just couldn't recall who Arthur Kirkland was, or what he meant to me._

* * *

_June 14_

_I ran into Kiku today. Because I haven't seen him in a long time, I was surprised to see him show up. He had heard about my accident, but had decided not to come and visit me because he thought that I would need rest and recovery._

* * *

_August 7_

_Nothing much happens lately. The ocean across from my apartment is really comforting to look at though. I haven't realized how close this apartment is to that cottage that England and France often go to. I should go and visit sometime._

* * *

_September 19_

_I woke up today with those two green eyes showing up again in my dreams. This time, a flash of blond hair also appeared. I sat up, breaking a cold sweat. _

_Just a dream. Just a dream._

* * *

I frown in concentration. Flipping more pages, I continue reading.

* * *

_October 4_

_We had a meeting today. Lots of countries asked about me. Many wanted to know what happened. Others decided not to push me. _

_I stood there after the meeting disbanded, watching England and France. Canada managed to drag me away after a few tugs, "We have better things to do, America!"_

_When I got home, I realized that there were no pictures of anyone other than me. I had a gut feeling that I no longer lived in this place by myself prior to the accident. There must have been another place._

* * *

_November 25_

_This place gets lonely at night. There's an empty feeling in my heart that just never goes away, especially at night, when I'm alone in this cold house._

* * *

_December 8_

_I vaguely remember…that on the day of the accident, I had gotten off from work early and picked up something to share with another person. The house was quiet and dark. That's all I can recall._

* * *

There's nothing in the diary up until May of next year.

* * *

_May 17_

_I was walking, on my way home, when I passed by a bakery. As I stared into the window, I saw a cake, some bread, and…a pie. Something stirred in my head, and I rushed to the cottage, hiding behind the house and waiting until England left. I dug under the doormat for the key, unlocking the door and pushing it open._

* * *

I gasp as I relieve the memories. That painful day, the shattered memories, they're all here.

* * *

_(Flashback-the current year)_

_This place…was where I lived before I lost my memories. As I wander through the small house, changed so much from how I actually remembered it, I pass by several doors. No doubt France is living here now. I reach the last door, hand starting to shake. Pushing it gently, I walk in. This bedroom…I feel a sense of nostalgia welling up, and I realize that this bedroom meant a lot to me. I stop in front of the nightstand. A small picture frame sits on top of it. Leaning closer, I recognize the two people in it. Both of them smiling so happily. One is me, Alfred, the other, with his distinct glass green eyes, is Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. Tears start spilling from my eyes._

_I remember now._

_Arthur, my beloved Arthur, didn't love me anymore. I ran away from this house because I caught him cheating on me with Francis. A truck had hit me and left me in a coma for a month, but when I woke up, I lost all my memories that had anything to do with England, because he was the source of my trauma and grief._

* * *

I look down at the diary I'm still holding and flip to the last page with words.

* * *

_July 21_

_After that little discovery, I arranged to move away from the apartment, because I couldn't live in this place anymore. There were too many emotional ties, too much pain, and I needed to be somewhere where I wouldn't have to think about what happened in the past. But after 2 months in another town, I came back, because my strong connection with this place made separation near-impossible._

_I couldn't let go of Arthur, of what we had. Knowing that he cared about me gave me such false hope, that maybe, just maybe, we could get together again. But the cruel reality jolted me, reminding me that he only cared about me as a friend, he never really loved me the way he felt so passionately for France. But every day I saw them happy, I was happy for them, but falling apart bit by bit myself, shattering like glass. I couldn't let go, I couldn't move on, I couldn't have England back. I was running out of options._

* * *

Their happiness at the cost of mine had proved too much. I escaped to the sea, because the repetitive sound of the waves always soothed my anguish and hurt. No one would go looking for me, no one would expect to find me here.

Getting up, I drop the diary on the sand next to me, open to the last page. Taking one last look at the city behind me, I hold my breath, and plunge into the ocean, the water welcoming me as I enter the world of the unknown.

The lull of the waves and the warmth of the sun beating down relax me as I push farther and farther out, reaching towards the sunset, my tears mingling with the salt water.

England, I set you free to feel happiness, because clearly your beautiful, emerald green eyes shine brightest for another. I don't have the heart–no I can't bear– to take away the light in them. But at the same time, I can't let go of you. So I choose to let you fly away to your heaven, while I wallow in pain, chained to my burden, my hopeless love for you. I cry for you every night, in the dark, when no one realizes. You, who brightened my days. You, who guided me with gentleness. You, who broke the fragile glass pieces of my already delicate heart.

The water closes over my head, and I shut my eyes, sinking, disappearing under the surface, my last thoughts still echoing as the darkness consumes me and I am indistinguishable from the sea.

_You loved me once right, England? Because I've loved you all of my life._

* * *

**A/N: Much thanks to Anastasya Debbie, because her fic "Red Cliff" inspired me. It sounds a little bit like hers because of that. Yes, I know it's sad. :'( Please review. I might put England finding out what happened, but it would have to be a separate fic, because I would rather this oneshot stand alone. **


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